With Dawn
by Azar443
Summary: And with dawn came a new beginning.
1. The Thin Line Between Love and Hate

**A/N: Something I came up with on the car, so forgive me if it's not up to my usual standards. Sort of like the companion piece to 'Death, Be Not Proud' and was inspired by the two lines below on some pic I found on Tumblr. Read, review and enjoy.**_  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or its characters.**

_Did she hate him?_

_No, she loved him._

Merlin sat in what used to be King Arthur's high backed chair by the fire, gazing into the flickering flames that danced and burned and sparked. Red and gold flecks reflected in the sky blue of his eyes as he recalled the scene of Morgana and Arthur's reunion with a small smile. Much as he detested her methods in life, he knew that Arthur had lost a part of himself when she fled Camelot and turned against them all. After all, Morgana was his friend once, and while he never shared Arthur's strong conviction that she could be saved, within his heart of hearts he had hoped that the small glint of humanity that had burned so bright in Morgana hadn't burst and fizzled out before its time.

A flash blinded his vision, and suddenly Merlin saw a tranquil lake with rolling, craggy hills in the background. Laughter rang through the lands and he squinted to see two tiny figures within the lake, splashing and flailing and shrieking with childish joy. The scene magnified, and in the crystal waters of the lake of Avalon Merlin saw his liege and the woman who in his heart, was the only one who would be his queen playing like children. Gold and black hair flashed under the fierce rays of the sun and their clothes were drenched and heavy from the lake water.

Morgana swam away from Arthur, calling back at him tauntingly, a tantalizing smile on her lips, red and lovely. "Come now, Arthur. What's the matter? Not losing your touch are you?"

Merlin recalled a similar scene before, when Morgana taunted Arthur with the same words, and yet this time it didn't sound dark or bitter or angry. The way Morgana said it, Merlin could hear the love and playful challenge that sparked Arthur's competitive streak, and he stroked powerfully to reach a giggling Morgana, catching her in his arms as he kissed her hard, ignoring the wet strands of hair and clothes plastering to his face and arms and chest. Morgana responded, winding her hands around his neck as she kissed back passionately, gripping his golden hair in her fists.

"Merlin?"

He jerked, the vision lost as he saw Queen Guinevere, face haggard and dressed in mourning black standing at the door way.

He rose and stopped awkwardly before her, "Queen Guinevere, what brings you here?"

She waved the title away and sank into the chair before her that Merlin magically summoned when he saw her exhaustion. Resting her head on the wooden table, she sighed and buried her face in her hands. "God Merlin, I miss him so much. Camelot's in total chaos, and with Arthur gone the duchies and realms we conquered are roaring for the crowning of a new King. They could never accept a woman; much less a woman who had been a maid servant before to rule them."

Merlin patted her back awkwardly, even after years of friendship he was never really good at comforting people. "Arthur gave you his signet ring Gwen; you're entitled to rule after him." He sighed. "As for the possibility of revolts, you'll be proclaimed High Queen of Albion to everyone, and that you rule with Arthur's blessings. They love him too much to sweep his decisions aside, no matter how much they dislike it." he squeezed her bare shoulder comfortingly, "We're strong Gwen, the knights stand by you. _I_ stand by you, and so do the people. We'll be all right. Someday."

Silence ensued, both Queen and sorcerer enveloped in their own thoughts. Merlin felt another vision coming over him when she spoke again, breaking the trance. Gwen stared out of the window, eyes unseeing, "Did she hate him, Merlin?"

He didn't ask who, didn't need to. After Morgana left no one dared speak her name in front of Arthur; no one wanted to see the young, lined face of their beloved prince and later king to be weighed down by an ominous shadow, making him old and tired beyond his 26 years.

Merlin thought back to his vision, the love that burned so brightly between Arthur and Morgana, he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't heeded the words of Kilgarrah and tried to eliminate the danger that Morgana might have posed. Maybe things would be different. Maybe Arthur would've faced Mordred with a proud Queen Morgana by his side, fighting together even if they fell by Mordred's hands. Where would Gwen be then? Still Morgana's handmaiden? There were times he regretted standing in the way of Morgana's future, maybe Arthur would still be alive and happy today with his true love.

"Merlin?"

He couldn't face her, knowing the hurt that would surface in the inky black of her eyes. It wasn't Gwen's fault; it wasn't any of their fault. Destiny couldn't ever be changed, but sometimes it brought so much pain and despair that Merlin wished he could change what was set in stone.

Merlin stared into the fires once more, drawing strength from the warm inferno. He gave his reply, sad and absent and full of regret for what couldn't have been.

"No. She loved him Gwen, more than anyone loved him. And she never stopped, neither did he."

A sharp gasp sounded, and Gwen gave one strangled sob before sweeping away from the room in a swish of silk. Merlin remained, a solitary tear gathered in the corner of his eye. He would wait, wait for the resurrection of his king no matter how many centuries or eternity that it would take. And he would right what should have been, and destiny wouldn't stand in the way of happiness again.


	2. Epilogue

On the dawn of a new day 21 years later, the Golden Era bowed its head as it made way for a new realm to be built. Wild bells rang out and the final song of the Pendragon throne was sung and mourned.

Queen Guinevere, widow of the beloved King Arthur ruled for 20 years and Camelot grew beneath her gentle guiding hand. She died one fine morning, never awaking from her slumber and her maidservants wailed as they covered her face. Her body wasn't buried; she once told Merlin that she wanted to be cremated. And he shed not a tear as he summoned a roaring inferno that licked at her body till nothing but ashes remained.

King Constantine was crowned king after her funeral, and the black flags were lowered as the bright red standard of the Pendragon fluttered mournfully in the wind one last time before Cornwall's standard rose solely to take its place by the flags of Albion's kings past. The line of Pendragon was no more.

The skies outside darkened as dusk arrived in its grey chariot, cloaking all of Camelot in shadows and shrouds. A flash of gold filtered through the window of King Arthur's room, and the people below looked up in wonder to see a merlin fly high in the skies, proud and majestic and crying out on melancholy, spreading its wings as it circled once, twice above the castle before swooping towards the woods, disappearing in another flash of gold. They cried in consternation, and the people wept to know the last great figure of the Golden Age was gone, but not before a quiet whisper sounded in each and every person's heart, even in that of King Constantine and his wife, and all of Albion hoped and prayed for the return of King Arthur, for the return of the golden age of men.

_The dragon will rise once more, and glory will spark and burn and envelop the world with its flight._


End file.
